Nico di Angelo and His (Mis)Fortunes at Hogwarts
by Chaos Greymistchild
Summary: Your cliche Nico-goes-to-Hogwarts story, only, these are a series of unrelated one-shots that germinated from unrelated plot bunnies that bit me in the ass. Twice. Do enjoy.
1. Fighting Madness and Boggarts

**This had probably been done to Thanatos, but I wanted to do my own little interpretation of what Nico would find the most hurtful and frightening. Also, the spells and Nico's thoughts will be in italics. I trust that you can tell the difference between Nico's thoughts and spells. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Fighting Madness and Boggarts**

Nico's POV

"... And today we will have a lesson on Boggarts!" Professor Lupin said with a flourish.

 _Oh crap_ , I thought.

"Now does anyone know what a boggart looks like?" He asked. I reluctantly raised my hand. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Nobody knows. Boggarts are shapeshifters. They take the shape of whatever a particular person fears the most." Granger explained, " That's what makes them so-"

"-so terrifying." Lupin interrupted, "Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart." The cupboard shook. Lupin stared at it for a moment. "Let's practice it now." He turned back to face us. "Without your wands, please. After me, _riddikulus_!"

" _Riddikulus_." The class chanted.

"A little louder, nice and clear. Listen, _riddikulus_!"

" _Riddikulus_!"

"Very good. Well, so much for the easy part. See, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes a boggart is laughter." At this point, I stopped paying attention. Longbottom forced Sev (he's a _friend_ , okay? Well, half-brother, but you know gods) to wear his grandmother's clothes and we all formed a line to take it in turns to tackle the boggart. I was before Potter, which made me, unfortunately, only third in line. I snapped back to attention as Professor Lupin called my name.

My boggart turned out to be well, a lot of people. There was a bit of milling before Father stepped out of the crowd, and I don't know how, but I suddenly caught myself bowing to him. "You are such a disappointment." He sneered, "It would have been much better if Bianca had survived. She would have been much better than you." I stepped backward slightly. I knew that Father had found me disappointing and pathetic but hearing it directly made it so much worse.

Then Bianca stepped forward next to Father, "You could have saved me!" she yelled, "You could have saved me like you saved Hazel, but you were too wrapped up in yourself to do anything! Then, you got a replacement sister! Well, she doesn't think much of you anymore."

And Hazel stepped forward, "I can't believe I'm related to such a let down as you," she sneered.

I regained my voice, "You're my sister. I love you."

"Don't say anything!" Hazel snarled, "Bianca told me everything. How she abandoned you because you were such a whiny brat, how you dragged her down, how you abandoned her in her time of need, how you weren't even useful, and most of all HOW IT FELT TO BE CRUSHED TO DEATH BY A FIFTY FOOT MECHANICAL TITAN!" I buried my face in my hands, tears streaming down. That's right, I'm useless, a waste of space.

"Of course you couldn't do anything remotely good." a voice joined theirs.

 _It couldn't be_ , "Percy," I breathed, looking up. There he was, in all his glory.

"When I found you, you were just a kid, obsessed with Mythomagic cards and figurines. Well, guess what? That obsession got your sister killed. Honestly, you were so pathetic, when you got your Ghost King title, I was so shocked, I almost said yes to immortality in my daze." He sneered. Behind me, someone whimpered and I realised that they heard all that.

"That's right, you don't deserve Percy." Gods, Annabeth, "You almost drove him to do something akin to committing suicide to him. Honestly." she huffed.

"No, you're _wrong_." _That's not Annabeth,_ I thought, curling up into a ball. _I_ _t's the boggart. Yes, that's right; it's the boggart._

"No, I'm _right_ , _Hades spawn_."

"No! You're wrong. It's not like that - it was _never_ like that!"

"Oh?" A different voice asked curiously. "Really? You never believed that for a second?"

A hand descended into my view and lifted my face up. I paled. It was me.

The not-Nico had an insane glint in his eyes and a maniacal grin on his face.

"What?" I breathed.

"Poor, poor Nico," He crooned, "doesn't even realise what's going on. I guess you're so used to being our Father's lapdog that you can't think for yourself anymore. Don't you realise? No," He paused, "you must. You're just ignoring it! Oh, this is so sweet. Poor Nico. Not even daring to think about it. You know that the madness eventually claims everyone."

Not-Nico dragged me up with him. "Look at me!" He gestured grandly, "This is who I am! This is who you are. Why do you fight it? It is quite freeing I assure you."

"No." I shook my head. "You can't be real. Madness would not bargain, or bride, or sweet-talk. Madness would chain me at its feet until I broke. GAIA COULDN'T BREAK ME, AND YOU MOST CERTAINLY CAN'T!" I screamed jumping yo my feet and whipping out my wand, "RIDDIKULUS!"

Abruptly he turned into a decrepit skeleton half-sitting on the ground which quickly turned to dust which was swept away by the wind, back into the cupboard.

"Di Angelo?" Professor Lupin asked me quietly.

"Shut up, lycanthrope." I hissed, too quiet for the other students to hear. "I just want to be alone."

"Okay," he nodded quietly. "Go back to my office, you should know where that is, right?"

"No, but I'll get one of the ghosts to tell me," I said with a bit of a watery smile.

Lupin smiled at me, "And I won't ask how."

* * *

 **How was that? Good? Bad? Let me know!**

 **EDIT 26/2/2017: A slight change to add in Nico's fear of the madness that runs in the blood of children of Hades. A prime example that was mentioned in PJO was Adolf Hitler.**


	2. The Ghost King and the Ghost

**Like I've said, random one-shots that have attacked me involving HP/PJO crossovers with Nico as the MC.**

* * *

 **The Ghost King and the Ghost**

Nico POV

When Nico entered the room, he knew that he was screwed. Honestly, the class was run by a freaking ghost.

"N-N-Nico D-Di Angelo." Binns stuttered.

Oh, Gods. "Here. Also, I would like a word with you after class about how and why exactly you are here." he glared.

"O-Of course, my Lord."

Wow, way to go. Now everyone will be thinking that he's that snake-face's son or something equally stupid. "Just get on with it."

As Binns started to drone on about the goblin wars, Nico saw the 'Golden Trio' whispering under their breaths and staring at him occasionally. Calmly, he got up and moved next to them. "Talking about people behind their backs is considered rude, you know," he said quietly.

They jumped. "How did you get here?!" Granger hissed.

"I walked."

"And we weren't talking about you!"

"Yes, because staring at someone while whispering under your breath to other people and attempting to hide it horribly, is not talking about someone behind their backs. I totally believe that."

Weasley turned a blotchy red. "For all we know you could be You-Know-Who's son!" he snarled.

Nico sighed. Why did he take this class again? Oh, yes, because he couldn't talk Dumbledore out of it. "I assure you that I am not that evil, murderous, cheating, snake-faced, bastard's son or grandson."

"You could be lying!"

"That's ridiculous. For one, I have a Father who wields more power in his little finger than that soul-splitter, and two, I'd like nothing more than to off that lunatic."

"I don't think that anyone would have more reason or want to kill that bastard more than I do," Potter interjected quietly.

Nico snorted. "Think that you're the only one who can off Riddle? Who do you think you are? By making himself a quasi-immortal to escape Death, he directly insulted my Father and his employee's reputation. Think of it as getting up at a high-end function, and, in front of everyone, calling a high-end person, say Lucius Malfoy, a bastard, homosexual, inbred, and retard, whilst throwing him the finger, and then spitting in his eye."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"So I don't have to off Voldemort-" Weasley flinched, "-or anything?" Potter asked incredulously.

"Nope. Don't think you have the ability to, either."

"Hey! Harry's the best at DADA in the entire-" The bell for the end of the period rang.

"Bye!" Nico crowed.

"But we haven't finished talking-"

Nico shoved the trio out before they could continue. The three of them were left in hanging around the hall a bit dazed. Harry summed up their thoughts into one word. "Damn."

* * *

 **I do hope you enjoyed this. To be honest, I was kind of reading a MoD!Harry fic, but this kind of popped into my head and just wouldn't go away. This actually kind of veered away from where I wanted it to go (as you can see by the title of the chapter). Meh.**

 **EDIT 27/2/2017: Another point I'd like to make that, in hindsight, I should have mentioned earlier, is that I am absolutely NOT homophobic, nor am I against homosexuality. I am merely making the point that in any kind of backwards society, even if homosexuality was accepted, it wouldn't be something mentioned in polite society. Additionally, calling Lucius a homosexual would also amount to implying that he cheats on Narsicca.**


	3. Nico and Dementors Not a Good Combo

**A plot bunny attacked me while I was going through my Wattpad updates. I swear to the dogs *wink* *wink*.**

* * *

 **Nico and the Employees of the Employee of His Father**

Nico's POV

It was in Harry's Third Year that I first discovered the Dementors. I was on the Hogwarts Express (seriously, who names a school Hogwarts?) when suddenly everything got cold. Then the windows frosted up and the happiness started being leeched from the air. The Dementor then decided that that was the best time to enter our compartment. Hermione and Ron started shivering uncontrollably and I was surprised to notice that even if I didn't shiver, I had goosebumps all over my arms. Harry had the worst reaction. He collapsed only a few seconds before the Dementor entered. Then I realised what they were.

Dementors are Soul Collectors gone wrong. Soul Collectors do Thanatos' bidding: collecting souls that he is too busy to do himself, and with the world's population rising as it is today, that is a lot of souls. Dementors are twisted versions of them. They are the unfortunate few who have been instructed to Collect so many souls of the wicked that they radiate the kind of fear that the souls they collected did and have an insatiable hunger for more souls.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, fearing for her friend, even as she was stuck to her seat in fear. Ron began making distressed noises even as Scabbers scurried off somewhere and 'Lupin' began to stir.

"Begone!" I commanded to the Dementor.

"I think not," it rasped out - unintelligible to anyone not blood-related to the Underworld, might I add.

"Yes, you will,"

"And why should I?" I got a distinct feeling that this Dementor pouting. _Pouting_ for gods' sake.

"Because I said so!"

"You are not my employer. I have no need to bow to you," now it was just sneering.

"And who does he work for?" I retorted.

There was a silence as the Dementor pondered for a bit then rasped furiously before racing out of our compartment, just as Lupin woke up. Thank the gods he didn't witness that as he would undoubtedly go to Dumb-As-A-Door about it.

* * *

 **Okay, this is pretty crappy, I admit that. This Rainy-Cloud would like a Sun to swing by and warm me up. And a Sky. Skies are great.**


	4. How to Scare the 'Dungeon Bat'

**Okay, so I've done some thinking, and I've decided to screw the timelines, but Nico is going to be like he is after BOO but minus the whole nightmares of Tartarus thing and he is going to appear in the Third Year. If you're complaining about canon or AU or whatever - shut up. A crossover is bound to mess SOMETHING up.**

* * *

 **How to Scare the Hell Out of the 'Dungeon Bat'**

Nico POV

The minute I walked through the door of the Potion's Classroom, I knew something was up. It was too... familiar, I guess. Something felt off, I just couldn't put my finger on it. Then Sev walked through the door and I almost blew my cover, I was so mad. He stopped on his way to his desk, next to my table. "Sorry, Nico." He murmured. Okay, that was it.

"What the Hades?!" I shouted. Then I grabbed him by the hand, turned him around and punched Sev in the face. Hard. "What the Hades was that?! The actual heck?! You go missing for years and all you have to say is 'sorry'?! The only reason why you aren't bleeding to death on the floor is because Thalia will shock you halfway around the world. What in the name of Zeus do you have to say for yourself?"

"Nothing," Sev said.

I hit him again. "We all thought you were dead," I whispered.

Sev stiffened. "I'm not dead. I'm here. With the living. It's all alright now," He soothed. I was not crying. At all. I just got caught off guard by the potion fumes is all. Ah, who am I kidding, I'm crying.

"You go IM the others," I hissed at Sev, shoving my pouch of drachmas at him. He turned pale at the very thought. "Go." I shoved Sev none too gently towards the door.

"B-b-But I have a class," He stuttered and turned pleading eyes on me.

I snorted. "That doesn't work on me anymore, bro. Besides, you would rather they find out from me or you?" He turned even paler. "That's what I thought. I'll take the class. Go."

He all but ran out of the room. "Excellent." I turned back to the class. "Hi. My names Nico di Angelo and that idiot forgot to tell his cousins that he was alive. Not a good idea when one of them is good with electricity and the other is the best swordsman in 300 years. I'll be taking this class while Sev is calling them. So, we'll start off by reviewing some of the material from last time, according to his lesson plans..."

* * *

 **And that's it, folks! Yeah, this is a shorter chapter than usual, but what can I say? This DID appear in my brain out of nowhere...**


	5. How To Teach A Potion's Class Not

**How To Teach A Potion's Class. Not**

 **Nico's POV**

"...according to his lesson plans... Actually, let's not go with Sev's lesson plans. They're kind of all over the place and suck. He doesn't even seem to be teaching you anything, anyways." I whistled, "Wow, he's really got it in for you, doesn't he, Potter."

"Like you wouldn't believe," He replied bitterly.

I sighed. "Honestly, Sev should've shook off such a silly little grudge ages ago. I guess without us around to beat some sense into him, he's gone off the deep end,"

"Gone off the deep end?" Malfoy echoed.

"Yeah. It's not uncommon for our types to go insane. To be honest, with the shit I've gone through, I'd be surprised if I was even a little sane, much less fully functioning as I am. It's frankly a miracle."

"Anyways," I continued as everyone started looking at me funny, "we aren't here to talk about me, 'you are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.' That's what he said in your first class isn't it?"

The entire class looked a little stunned.

"Y-yeah." Granger stuttered.

I smiled fondly. "That's what he told me first time too,"

"Your first time?"

I waved off the question. "We'll start with revision. Does anyone know the effects of ground Horned Slug Horns opposed to whole ones?"

Everyone looked at me blankly.

I sighed. "This is going to be a long class..."

* * *

"Good job, Di Angelo." Longbottom said as he packed up. "That was a brilliant class. Indefinitely better than Snape's."

I smiled tiredly in response as he exited. Sev swept in not a minute later. "So, I hear that you taught my class today..."

* * *

 **I freely admit, this one was a bit random, but hey, it turned out alright. Bye guys, and if you're reading Assassino, please reply to my question. Grazie.**


	6. Whimsical Thoughts

**Yeah, I've been away for a while. I can't really excuse myself, but I'm trying to complete my fics before I publish them, except for this drabble-ish one. As it is, I'm writing Assassino, a Rurouni Kenshin/Harry Potter crossover, and an original work at the same time, so I'm kind of overrun. My fault I guess. Also, expect more Nico in the future - I have some scenes worked out while I got a bit of writer's block.**

* * *

 **Whimsical Thoughts**

The first thing that they learned about Di Angelo was that he was terrible at Herbology. He said that it used to be worse, but he still has an almost unnaturally black thumb. Eventually, even Professor Sprout gave up and simply assigned him extra essays. Filch took perverse pleasure in assigning him detentions in the Greenhouses.

The second thing that they learned was that he was a brilliant strategist. The entire common room stared from him to the chessboard to a defeated Ron. When asked about it, he just said that his Father (and they could practically _see_ the capital F) would have been disappointed in him, so he learned.

The third was that he was mysterious. By the second week, over half the girls were crushing on 'tall, dark, and handsome' or wishing that their boyfriends were more like him. The others were too young or too old.

A fourth was the way he mentioned his Father almost as much as Malfoy. Only, he didn't say it in the arrogant 'my father will hear about this', chin lifted, back straightened manner, but rather a quiet 'my Father would be disappointed in me if I didn't do well at this'. It made them wonder at what his home life was like.

They would be left without answers.

Nico di Angelo never received any letters.

(Which really should have told them everything on its own.)

* * *

 **As you can see, I hadn't Sorted Nico until this chapter. I went out of my way to avoid it, actually. However, this chapter needs it, so I kinda shoved him into Gryffindor even though Nico makes an amazing 'Puff. Sorry, plot point, 'kay? (We can always say that Nico argued the Hat into it by showing him all the times he went into battle. 'I had to have been brave to charge into that, right?' 'Oh, okay, you little brat.') Please give me your opinions. I would like to see how I did with this style.**


	7. Preparing for Battle

**Sorry for not updating for so long. Anyways, since it's Christmas, I wanted to give a little gift to all the people who stuck out with me and my terrible non-existant updating schedule. I will also be posting a sneak peek of another fanfic project that I worked on for NaNoWriMo this year.**

* * *

 **Preparing for Battle Against a Hideous Pink Toad (No Seriously, We Need To Go In With A Plan Otherwise We're Screwed)**

"Nico?" Granger called nervously.

Nico blinked. Very rarely was Granger so nervous. "Yes?"

"I'm planning to start a club to practice Defense in since Umbridge isn't actually teaching us anything with Harry as the teacher. I've got a few ideas that I wanted to run past you, is that okay?"

"Me?" Nico asked the girl dubiously. "Why me?"

Granger blushed lightly in embarrassment. "Well, I don't really know. It's just... you just seem to know about this kind of stuff."

The Ghost King sighed. "Sure," he said, putting down his book, "Why not?"

She smiled at his agreement. "I was thinking of inviting anyone who seemed interested in the idea to a meeting during the next Hogsmeade weekend. It's the perfect opportunity, students are always gathering together so it won't be suspicious or anything. I was thinking of hosting it in the _Hog's Head_ , the bar near the edge of the village."

Nico nodded. "Yeah, I know about that one, but you should host it in the _Three Broomsticks_ instead."

Granger frowned. "Why? The _Hog's Head_ is isolated and there are fewer people to overhear."

"All valid reasons," he assured, "but _because_ there are fewer people, it becomes easier to overhear any one conversation. For example, in the Great Hall during dinner is it harder to overhear a conversation made by someone a few seats away from you than it is to hear a conversation between a few people in the Common Room near bedtime?"

Granger nodded in understanding. "The babble of many people talking at once will cover up the meeting and make it harder for people from further away to hear and it also ensures that possible spies are further away due to how packed it is."

"And it is far more suspicious for a large group of students to visit a shady pub on the edges of Hogsmeade than it is for the same group of students to meet in the Three Broomsticks."

"Thanks, Nico!" She beamed at him, caught up in the excitement. "I wanted to have everyone sign a binding magical contract too, for secrecy reasons."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "Stealing ideas from a certain Goblet?" he asked sardonically.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "A good idea's a good idea. Anyways, I was planning to hex the parchment so that it would spell 'sneak' on a person's face in really prominent pimples if they said anything to Umbridge, do you think I could add anything?"

Nico hummed in thought. "Wouldn't just preventing people from speaking about it altogether work better?"

She shook her head. "No, there isn't really a spell or enchantment that I can cast that will do something so specific without giving the fact that we're keeping a big secret away."

"Then maybe a compulsion not to speak about in public or to people who aren't on the list?"

"Nico, you're a genius!" She shouted, diving into her book bag and rummaging around frantically. The Ghost King watched her fondly - and when had he become so fond of the 'Golden Trio' anyways? Hermione waved her wand a few times over a piece of parchment muttering under her breath, then left it out to the side, watching it carefully. "There." she said, satisfaction curling around her voice, "If it doesn't spontaneously combust in the next ten seconds, then we're good to go."

It didn't.

"I've got a good plan sketched out for convincing Harry to teach us, and I'm sure it'll work, but none of us have any idea where to actually meet in the future for lessons," she admitted eventually.

Nico shrugged. "I don't really know a place big and private enough for the kind of thing you're suggesting. Try asking around discretely, I know the house elves would be more than happy to provide."

Hermione began ranting about house elves and slave labour.

"Look, Hermione," he said, cutting her rant short, "I've already told you my opinion about house elves, so please stop getting in my face about it. I respect your opinion, so respect mine. Goodnight." he said a little stiffly and stalked up to his dorm, pausing briefly only to pack up his homework and books.

* * *

 **Um, so yeah, that was a bit of an abrupt ending. If anyone's interested, though I don't think many of you would be, the book little Neeks is reading is _Dreams of Gods and Monsters_ , the third book in the Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy by Laini Taylor. The trilogy is frankly amazing and I think its a book Neeks would read and if not love, at least enjoy.**

 **Reviews are awesome. *hint hint wink wink***


	8. Oh, Tom

**This was thanks to a prompt by TheGhostQueen13, so you can all thank her for this chapter. Her prompt was as follows: Nico, in the presence of a captured Harry or 'golden trio' for dramatic effect, is forced to face Voldemort alone. The catch? The dark lord was Nico's childhood friend before the casino, maybe even his first crush. And Voldemort recognizes him...**

 **So yeah, this plot bunny was less me running with it and more it bashing me over the head with a steel pipe and dragging me along for the ride. Still, it was quite fun to write and experiment with, and I hope you enjoy reading it from Voldemort's POV. I do switch from Tom to Voldemort and back again multiple times, which was to highlight the differences between the two personas. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Oh, Tom, You've Changed So Much, And Yet So Little In Fifty Years**

"Hello, Tom," the boy says calmly, serenely, like this meeting of chance (okay, mostly his fault, but _still_ ) hadn't affected him in the slightest.

Tom Riddle, no, he was Lord Voldemort now, not that weak thing back at the orphanage, felt his mask crack.

"Angel?" He asked, his voice disgustingly high and yearning. Disgustingly hopeful. Behind the teen – too young, his mind screamed, we should be the same age, so why, why was he so young! – the pitiful, so-called 'Golden Trio' lay, bound, gagged, wandless and vulnerable. Their eyes widened in shock, and he slammed his shields down, face blanking, locking his stupid, irrational, weak emotions away, behind masks and shields and locks stronger than ever before.

(He had never had to care about what anyone thought before, not truly.)

"Oh, Tom," his old friend – not just a friend, a small insidious voice in his head whispered, he could be more than just a friend, we could be more than just friends – said sadly, looking at him with only pity in his eyes. Voldemort snarled, and drowned that traitorous voice in cold logic, froze it in ice, wrapped it in iron chains and titanium locks, and sunk it into the deepest depths of his mind with the weight of a broken heart and inevitably. "What have you done to yourself?"

"What have I done?" He shouted. "What have _I_ done? The question should be what have _you_ done! You still look sixteen when we should be the same age! What have _you_ done to yourself?"

"Thomas," his Angel said, quietly, and Voldemort felt his resistance leave him.

"Nico," he called and suddenly the teen was in his arms and they were holding onto each other tightly as if they had never been separated.

"Thomas," Nico said, and Tom stiffened. That was Nico's 'I'm being serious now, so _listen_ ' voice. "I'm sorry." Tom blinked. What did Nico have to be sorry about- Oh. Oh, that, he thought almost absently as a knife was stabbed through his chest from behind.

Knife in his hand, blood down his shirt his Angel of Death turned to the shaking and (muffled) shouting and screaming 'golden trio'. He cut through the ropes and immediately the trio scrambled in the other direction. Even as he tried to keep himself from bleeding out (no, his new form was not invincible, Nico have you been spreading lies again?), Voldemort could not help but admire the utter ruthlessness that action had taken, not to mention the _fear_ it had incited. Nico threw them their wands and sent them... somewhere through... the shadows?

He turned back. Tom sucked in a breath in shock. His Angel was crying. "Nico?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." The teen said, voice shaking, as he easily hamstrung the Dark Lord. He smiled one last time at Tom, and Tom was taken aback, once again, at how it transformed his face into _beautiful_ and disappeared.

His heart burst out of all the careful restraints he had placed on it, bypassed all his mental shields, moulded itself into what once was _Tom_.

No.

Voldemort shut his emotions away. Emotions were what made you _weak_. He had learnt that lesson very well, when Nico and Bianca had left, leaving him only with a gaping hole in his chest and the bruises of the other children. A human heart had no place in the chest of a Dark Lord, a lesson he had learnt when he split his soul for the first time.

This time, next time, every time after that, he would seal his heart up, tighter than ever before.

(Just like Nico had shielded his.)


	9. Memento Mori

**Disclaimer: this is not a continuation or a continued exploration of the last chapter.**

 **That out of the way, this is a pretty horrid chapter, and it is no way near as good as it sounded in my head, but my mind isn't cooperating to make it better, so take this piece of trash and hopefully at least one person will find worth in it.**

 **Also, the title should probably tell you that this isn't one of the humorous chapters.**

* * *

 **Memento Mori**

 ** _(remember that you must die)_**

Nico waited patiently for the students to disperse slowly, discretely, from the Room of Requirement. He hovered at the door, and after the last of the DA slipped out, closed it before the last trio could leave.

"We need to talk," he told Potter firmly.

The other two of the trio started to drift off, but Nico's serious demeanor seemed to communicate his desire for them to remain.

"What is it?" Potter asked warily.

Nico held up his hand and twirled his Stygian Iron ring around his finger as he spoke. "Do you know what this is?"

"A cool ring...?" Weasley asked hesitantly.

"A memento mori," Nico corrected, "It translates to 'remember you must die'. Whenever I fiddle with it, I am reminded that it is my fate to die in battle. This is war, I suggest you find your own memento mori to remind you of that fact."

The three eyed his ring with renewed curiosity and weight.

"What does it remind you of?" Potter asked with his usual tactlessness.

Nico smiled humorlessly. "My Father."

* * *

 **Quick query: I've been thinking about the classification of this fic and I'm not sure whether it should be general/supernatural (which is what it is at the moment) or humor/ either drama, horror, angst, or supernatural. What do you guys think? Or does no one care about the genre classification at all?**

 **And yes, I headcanon that Nico, being the son of Hades and all, is very much aware of how mortal people are and his ring/sword (given to him by his Father) is a memento mori because of that. It's a literal gift from the ruler of the Underworld, and every time he sees it, he would be reminded of that, and that he only became who he was because Bianca, the favorite, died.**


	10. Two Can Keep A Secret

**Warning: this is Not Nice.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Two Can Keep A Secret (If One of Them Is Dead)**

The first time Nico saw Potter's cloak of invisibility, he brushed it aside. So Thanatos complained about having lost it to a mortal, what did it matter? It was only really useful against those who could see through the Mist anyways.

He knew when to keep his mouth shut, and if he didn't like to sneak away with the trio under that cloak, well, it wasn't any of their business, was it?

He preferred the shadows that crawled lovingly over him anyways.

The second time, he saw the stone, embedded in that gaudy ring that graced the shriveled, dead hand of Dumbldore's, and he felt cold, as though someone he poured a bucket of ice water over his head. Still, Nico didn't breathe a word to his Father. Once was happenstance and twice was coincidence. It wasn't like there was a legendary map telling power-hungry warlocks where to find Thanatos' lost treasures after all. He'd just keep an eye out for the scythe and make sure it didn't fall into the wrong hands.

(Oh, what blissful ignorance)

The third time – there wasn't a third time.

There was just the rattle of chains, cold iron around his throat, a Father who forgot that he wasn't a useful, treasured pet but the god's own son, and _painpainpain_ , sanity slipping through his grasp like the waters of Lethe–––––––

* * *

 **As you can probably tell, I wasn't in a forgiving mood when I wrote this**.


	11. The Master of Death

**This is... kind of like a continuation of the previous drabble?**

 **You'll see when you read this.**

* * *

 **The Master of Death**

"So," Potter said, carefully not looking at him.

Nico, very aware of the absolute mess he looked like, winced. He'd shown up for the cliché "final battle" half-mad and screaming, shadows writhing around him like a tortured serpent tying nooses in its own coils. It was the closest he'd ever been to falling into the insanity that plagued those of his Father's line. After the blind rage and fear had played its course, he had awoken from his daze to find half the enemy forces decimated, swallowed by the earth or dead, corpses arisen at his command.

His shadow curled at his feet like a cat rubbing at the ankles. Nico stilled it. He swallowed thickly. "I am... not sorry," he told Potter when the silence wore too long. "The deaths that I have caused are not lives I will regret taking." He paused again. "I do regret, however, not stopping you. I regret being too late, not thinking about the ramifications, not- not doing anything to help."

Potter looked at him in confusion.

"Do you truly have no idea of what you've done? No idea at all?" he asked softly, pleadingly.

Potter remained confused, though now he stared at the stone ceiling of the Astronomy Tower in which they sat, as though seeking the stars, visible through enchantments, for answers.

"'Master of Death', do you have any idea what that means?"

"It's just a story," Potter dismissed, turning his head briefly to face Nico as he spoke. "Just a story about three unusually powerful artefacts and a morale to never attempt to cheat Death,"

Nico stared at him long enough and with enough sorrow to make Potter uncomfortable. "Those three 'magical artefacts' aren't magical in origin. They were created by Thanatos, the Greek god of peaceful Death, only to be stolen by the brothers Peverell of the fable. The Elder Wand was fashioned from a splinter of Thanatos' scythe, a tool and a crutch for his Chosen; the Resurrection Stone, a crystallisation, a manifestation, of his Domain, to gift his Chosen with the power to summon shades and compel them to obey without sacrifice: and the Invisibility Cloak, a patch torn off of his own, to shield his Chosen from the eyes and rule of the mortal living."

He fell silent as he watched the wizard-martyr weave the clues together.

"'The Master of Death'. That isn't just some frivolous, pretentious title invented by some madman, is it?"

"No. When Thanatos weaved these powerful artefacts from his Domain and his two Items of Power, he intended for them to be a leash and check on the power of his Chosen, the one he would Choose to share his Domain with. But the brothers Peverell stole into his chambers while he was supervising the passage of souls and took the three precious treasures. Thanatos was enraged, but the gods were barred from interfering with the lives of mortals by Zeus, the King of the Gods, and Thanatos had always obeyed. So he waited for the three brothers to die. The rest of the story passes much as the fable, only the brothers Peverell had cursed their newest treasures afore their deaths, such that those with godly blood running through their veins could not touch them, lest their power be stolen. Thanatos could not reclaim his treasures for fear of losing his Domain. The Pantheon, of course, would not volunteer its children for the task. Again, he was forced to wait. He waited, and waited, and waited, until the stolen artefacts were finally united again. Seeing that the wizard-martyr who had claimed his treasures was of golden heart and noble sacrifice, Thanatos claimed this wizard-martyr as his Chosen, the Master of Death, who would be known as this forevermore, until the sun died, the planet burned, and Olympus fell to the ground in ruin."

Finally, Potter raised his head, stared straight into his eyes and spoke. "And what does this mean for me and my friends, Thanatos?"


End file.
